


Curing the Ache

by Dubious_Literature



Category: Original Work
Genre: Begging, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Clit Stimulation, Daddy Kink, Edging, Elf Sex, Elves, F/M, Fantasy, First Time, Forced Orgasm, Impregnation, Loss of Virginity, Mommy Kink, Pee, Porn With Plot, Squirting, Urination, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, impreg, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:01:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28501887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dubious_Literature/pseuds/Dubious_Literature
Summary: Ariala is a 20 year old elf, perhaps a bit too young to be considered a woman by her tribe, but old enough to work as a fletcher with her adoptive father, Samriel. As Ariala starts experiencing some confusing, frustrating feelings, she has nowhere to turn to for help but the only person she can trust: Samriel.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 76





	Curing the Ache

**Author's Note:**

> If you have a request for a story, hit me up. I'll do my best to get around to it. You will be credited for the idea and the story will be dedicated to you. For a list of things I won't write about, please see my profile. I love a challenge, so don't be shy! Send your creative ideas my way!

Ariala was only twenty. Some of the elders in her tribe still treated her like a girl, and others a woman. She was still a ways off from being paired with potential spouses, and still lived at home with her father. True, he wasn’t her father at birth, but that hardly mattered to either of them.

Ariala’s old tribe cast her out when she was only seventeen, a child, and she wandered in the forest alone and starving for weeks before Samriel found her. She was too skinny, too dirty, clumps of oaken hair matted to her face with sweat. He took her back to his hut, treated her wounds, and started training her as a fletcher’s apprentice. 

Samriel seldom spoke of his late wife, but Ariala could tell that he was grateful to have more feminine company around. Their relationship was strong, if somewhat undefined. _Father_ was the closest word that seemed to fit, though he never would have told her to go to bed on time or clean up after herself. They unanimously agreed to leave their messes until they were both sick of looking at them, laughing about their laziness together by the firelight. 

One night, Ariala was up alone, and Samriel was asleep in the fireside chair. He had dropped his book onto the dirt floor, a hand resting over his lean middle. His bun was loose, hair the same color as the raven’s feather on his quill, or the ink in the pot he kept near his ledger. It had been a long day at work. The desk in the corner was topped with parchment, arrows and coin. Ariala had spent the day helping him out at the stall, hands busy slipping arrowheads into the notches of shafts…but now, her hands were busy with other things.

Her bed was at the back of the hut obscured with shadows, save the sliver of moonlight peeking through the slatted, glassless windows. She lied on her belly, hips digging into the bearskin. The treated fur was slick where her crotch bore down, grinding herself against it over and over for friction. 

She didn’t know what she was feeling. It was the way she was lying down, the way her legs pushed together when she laid on her side. She squeezed her legs together initially causing…something. Something in between them, at the base of her belly. That’s when Ariala had rolled over seeking relief. Oh, but she didn’t get it. Instead, the pressure on her belly against the floor and the gentle touch of the bearskin against the outside of her underthings was making her more frustrated and confused than ever.

Truth be told, this was the sixth night in a row this had happened. Each night was more unbearable than the last. It was passing at first; the first night, she lied there for fifteen minutes before it went away. The second night, she rubbed up against the rug wrong – or right, maybe – and it kept her up for an hour. Every night she learned that if she flexed her hips a certain way or crossed her legs, it felt really, really good…but also awful, because she couldn’t sleep. She had been exhausted all week, trying to craft arrows at work while feeling that strange, ebbing sensation down there.

“Father?” She couldn’t take it, not for another night. She never woke Samriel up because he was tired too. He had a stall to run, and he was the only fletcher in their tribe. 

Samriel’s vivid, blue eyes opened like two shimmering icicles. “Vėrrïs, Ariala?” His voice was crisper than packed snow, calmer than a still sea.

“Erïlas ymė…ymė…” She tugged at the bottom of her cotton nightie, its bone-colored fabric dangling around her knees. _I feel funny in my…in my…_

“Where?” asked Samriel, a concerned expression washing over his diamond-cut face. Firelight flickered in his eyes. The girl swallowed hard, nodding downward, a light flush over her cheeks. “Oh…” breathed the tall man, straightening his posture. The chair creaked under his light weight. “I, ah…I see.” Now his own cheeks matched hers. He had always wanted children with his late wife but never got the chance. He figured since they were both only fifty years of age there was plenty of time, and he never expected he’d ever have ‘the talk’ with someone after she passed. But here she was, Ariala: the closest thing he would ever have to a daughter, and she was what elves called ‘In Need.’

He knew she was In Need the moment she lifted up her nightgown, revealing her white smallclothes stained with want. She bunched up the fabric of her nightie with one hand and tugged her undergarments up with the other. The friction felt good against her crotch as she showed Samriel the wetness she had accrued for the sixth consecutive night.

“I-” she choked, giving a soft sob, tears swelling in her eyes. “-I think need a healer…”

“Ah…oh…Ariala, mŷras,” _my little girl,_ “you don’t need a healer.”

“It hurrrts,” she complained, cupping her hand over her entirety and squeezing. 

Samriel’s stomach practically fell out of his ass. He swallowed hard, adam’s apple dipping in his throat along with his apprehension…and, well, maybe some other, less savory emotions. “Does it hurt, or does it _ache?_ ” he asked, making sure that it _didn’t_ actually hurt; that he was wildly mistaken and she didn’t actually have a urinary infection and had peed.

She stopped crying momentarily, tilting her head down and considering his words. “It aches…” she confessed, letting herself go and allowing her gown to drop again.

Oh gods. He couldn’t ignore it, couldn’t ignore the sensation in his pants. He felt nauseous thinking about his little girl that way. He was supposed to protect her, watch over her. But Samriel also pitied her. Ariala had this pent-up desire, and had no idea what to do with it. 

“You can…touch,” he explained, though that didn’t actually explain anything. It clearly confused the girl, because she shook her head. He tried again. “You can touch your…uh…” 

_She’s so wet,_ he thought. _You saw it yourself. She came to YOU. She’s wet and she needs your help, and if she doesn’t get it, she’s going to get it from the healer instead. The healer is going to tell her she’s not old enough for a husband or wife, send her right back here, and she’s going to stay confused._ It was bullshit, all of it, but Samriel was dying for an excuse.

“…here,” he continued, wrapping an arm around her. He pressed his palm into the small of her back and eased her forward. Ariala took two steps until she stood in front of the chair. With a deep breath, Samriel slipped his right hand under her gown, still touching her back ever so lightly, and settled his fingertips lightly against her thighs.

Ariala bit her lip and watched, forest eyes wide in anticipation.

“Sometimes, people start to feel things, right here.” His fingers slipped between her legs and teased – just barely – the outer fabric of her underthings. He started where her pubic hair began at the top of her vulva and traced his fingertips down the length of her sex. Ariala gasped, knees shaking just the slightest bit. “And when we start to feel things here,” he continued, rubbing lightly against her slit through the damp cloth, “we need to address those feelings.”

The entire time she had been ‘addressing her feelings’ on the rug, Ariala had inadvertently built herself up quite a bit. Even the slightest touch from Samriel made her shift her hips, dying for more friction. She was quiet for a time, save little breaths here and there. Samriel continued massaging her through the cloth in slow, circular motions, slowing his pace whenever his dragged his fingers over her clit.

The first time he did this, she bit harder into her lip. The second time, a small, almost inaudible mewl escaped her. Her hips moved a little harder on the fourth, fifth, and sixth times, and soon, she was grinding against his hand, a brisk moan bursting from her lips. 

Samriel paused, letting his fingers idle over her button, applying a small amount of pressure as he did so. “Are you alright, mŷras?”

“F-Father? I’m sorry…”

“Vėrrïs?”

“I think I had an accident!” Another choking sob left her, followed by another. Her cheeks were flushed, tears simmering in her eyes once more.

“Let’s see…” Samriel took his hand away from the small of her back and hooked each of his forefingers into the waistband of her underwear. “Up,” he ordered. She lifted one leg after the other as he slid them down around her ankles, collecting them and inspecting them in the firelight after. 

They. Were. _Drenched._

Arousal and urine, both mixed together to create a transparent sheen over the fabric. It was wet and viscous, and its smell made Samriel’s eyes constrict, a deep throb emanating from his crotch. And to make matters worse, he thought back to his wife, how _she_ peed during sex. He remembered the first time it happened. He had to leave the room, collect himself, and come back. It was an acquired kink, but he loved his wife and before he knew it, she was chugging a half a gallon of water before their affairs just to make it fun. 

“That’s okay, mŷras.” When he called her that she felt her stomach turn inside out in the best way. “When some people feel this particular need, they urinate. It um…” He felt his cock twitch. “It feels good to be able to do that sometimes. Here…”

His fingers were against her slit again, only this time, she was bare. He clutched the smallclothes with one hand, squeezing them as the length of his opposite fingers rubbed up and down her lips and clit.

“Father…” she whimpered.

“Spread open your legs a little.”

She took a deep breath and did as she was told. Perfect: now he had just enough room to maneuver. His finger slipped up and down, up and down, rubbing and rubbing until she was once again grating back against him. “Ooh…ooh…ooh,” she fussed with each of his strokes. And each of her soft, sensuous noises made his pants feel tighter and tighter. 

Suddenly, he felt a hard strain in his pants. _Oh gods I need to touch you, mŷras…_ With a heavy breath that he failed to suppress, he drew his fingers up over her little clit and began to vibrate them.

“OOH! OOH!” she continued, though much louder than before. 

“Mmhhhmmm…moan for daddy,” he whispered. _You’re sick, Samriel. You’ve never, EVER wanted her to call you that. That’s was SHE called you before SHE died; this is your daughter. It’s different. You’re her father, not-”_

“T-t-t-too much! Too much!” she squeaked. 

“You can take it, sweet girl,” insisted Samriel. “Don’t you want the ache to go away?”

“Nnnnggghhh!” she answered, hips jerking in all directions as he overstimulated her clit. But she nodded, nodded and felt her face flush even hotter. It was way, _way_ too much for her sensitive parts to handle. It felt sharp, achy, and yet the rest of her ached too in a completely different way altogether. Though her small button felt like it was pinching under his movements, the whole of her crotch was still desperate for more friction, and juices were pooling at her entrance.

Samriel stopped suddenly and dragged his fingers back down her slit hard. Ariala jerked her hips forward and placed each of her hands below her navel. “I…I feel…”

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Like I have butterflies in my tummy,” she answered. Truth be told, so did he. Maybe it was a mix of passion and guilt; lust and shame. “Except…” she added, “it’s not in my tummy.” He raised an eyebrow. “It’s _down there._ Only the butterflies keep getting bigger and bigger and just a second ago there were almost too many!”

_Ah, fuck, old man, you almost just gave her an orgasm. Look at her and those eye of hers. She’s begging. Her cunt is literally dripping down her thighs, can’t you feel that? She has feelings for you, too. She came to you first. She came to you, first…_

“That means you’re close,” he explained, calm on the exterior though his thoughts and feelings were stampeding out of control. 

“Close to wh-” But before Ariala could ask, two fingers were sinking deep, deep, _deep_ inside of her. “-aaaaaahhhhhh mmmmmmmm Father!”

“Daddy,” he corrected.

“D-daddy?” she blinked.

Her inquiry was rewarded with the curl of his fingers, hooking hard inside of her and probing her walls. The moment he hooked them, she moaned a soft, whimper of a moan, urine trickling out of her urethra and onto his hands. “Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed, taking her panties and dabbing up the dribble from her pussy. 

The cloth felt good rubbing up against her neediness. She clenched her legs together, bucking against the fabric while Samriel began properly fucking her with his fingers. In and out, out and in, curling, massaging, exploring; more juices collecting like nectar around his fingers.

He pulled his fingers out and she whined in longing. Samriel looked her in the eyes and sank his fingers into his mouth, licking the juices from his flesh.

“F-father…er, daddy…what are you doing?”

“Do you feel how your privates ache?” he asked, massaging her pussy with the damp cloth of her underwear.

“Ahhh ~ uh huh…” she answered, lulling her crotch forward again for more friction.

Undoing the ties on his pants with his opposite hand, he said, “Well everyone feels that way sometimes. Even Daddy.”

“You do? R-right now?” panted Ariala.

Hearing her say that she needed a healer to make her privates feel better; that first touch to her panties; holding her sopping, wet underwear, slipping his fingers inside of her, _tasting_ her, listening to her sweet moans and hearing her fumble to describe her intense feelings…

His cock was already leaking precum when he freed himself. At first he couldn’t imagine how frustrated she was, but now, he had a good idea. His length was rigid and swollen, red with a slight tinge of purple at the head. Samriel hadn’t had company since his wife had passed, and Ariala was right there;

_Right there. Dripping, OOZING lust down her legs. It’s the fantasy you always wished for and never dreamed would have come true, Sam! Fuck her! Fuck her right now!_

“C-come here, mŷras…” Samriel let the underwear fall to the floor, took her tiny waist, and pulled her close. She followed his lead, sliding into his lap. Ariala straddled him, legs on either side of his waist, knees bent. She was at least a foot shorter and much skinnier, although Samriel was quite lean. His cock was pressed against the front of her overlong blouse, a teeny, tiny bit of precum staining the fabric.

“Daddy?”

“Hmmm?” he answered, his large, warm hands massaging her tiny waist. 

“I’m nervous…”

“Okay, little one. Tell me why you’re nervous. Let’s talk about this.”

“Be honest: is this what spouses do? Is this what the elders teach you when they want you to get married?”

Samriel took a deep breath. She was a smart girl, always was. Hell, she was probably smarter than him, truth be told. “Yes.”

“This is…wrong, right?”

Samriel nodded. He didn’t hesitate for a second. “It is wrong, Ariala. This…” he looked down, and as if on cue, his erection spasmed, “…this isn’t right.”

Ariala looked down and closed her eyes. His hands stopped moving and he held her for a time, her belly pressed against his rigidity. The only noises that could be heard were Samriel’s soft breaths, the light creak of the chair underneath them, and the gentle rain that had begun to fall on the roof of the hut. Finally, she asked, “Do I give you butterflies too?”

Samriel laughed. “More. Crows, I think, with giant, flapping wings.”

Ariala giggled and reached out, pressing her fingers against his penis. It twitched, and Samriel closed his eye with a low rumble simmering at the back of his throat. “Does it feel good?” she asked.

“Mŷras, you’re about to make me cum and I haven’t even been touched properly.” The girl shook her head; she didn’t know what ‘cum’ was or what this entailed. “Did you enjoy my fingers?”

She bit her lip and nodded. “Uh huh…I’m just embarrassed. I…I don’t really know why…I just am.”

“It’s okay. This will be our secret. Come here, lift your hips up.” He hoisted her up and she gasped. Once Ariala had steadied herself, Samriel let go with one hand and clasped his dick. He lined it up with her entrance, feeling her juices drip across the tip. “This is going to feel a little tight at first, alright?”

“Oh-okay…what are you- AHHHH!” He slipped inside of her faster than he’d meant to and did so with a long, sharp groan. He hadn’t meant to bottom out like that but it was too late. Ariala doubled over, clutching her middle. “It hurrrts!”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” whispered Samriel. “Just take a moment. Adjust. Close your eyes and just… _feel._ ”

Ariala panted, beads of sweat forming on her hairline. She did as she was told, eyelids falling closed. She transitioned to soft, gentle breaths, though they were a touch shaky. She sat there, skewered by Samriel’s length – and oh, was it ever long – centering herself, unmoving. 

As the girl began to feel calm again, Samriel took one of his hands and slipped it under her garments. He then began to stroke her belly. She was just so small, flesh taut against her muscles, but skin so, so incredibly soft. His palm drifted over her beautiful flesh, thumb touching the edge of her navel, fingertips grazing the underside of her breasts. 

Her muscles contracted slightly as she shifted, a small, whisper of a sigh at the back of her throat. He rubbed a slow circle, hand accelerating upward until he cupped a supple breast. Though she was small, she had a bit of fat in her breasts and buttocks, her thighs and upper arms. She had certainly matured over the last year or so…that much was evident by the longing she showed for his touched.

“Mmmm…” she breathed, eyes still shut. He took her nipple between his two fingers, tugging and tweaking. “Oh…” Her hips fluctuated again, belly rolling forward as she unknowingly started to ride him. His cock sank deeper and he almost moaned himself. But he took his time; he wanted to make sure she wasn’t uncomfortable; that she felt good, too. “I like that, daddy…”

He did moan this time, moaned and experimentally bucked his hips. This elicited a rough groan from Ariala whose eyes didn’t open but instead squeezed tightly shut. Maybe that was because when he bucked, he could see the head of his own cock bulge underneath of Ariala’s navel, ballooning inside of her. “Gods,” he gasped, and did it again.

“Nnnngggghhh!” she grimaced. He almost stopped, almost apologized and said _You know what? This was a mistake. Go to bed, we’re never speaking of this again,_ until Ariala grimaced again at the same time she doubled down, grinding and peeing a little. “Ah! “S-sorry!” she whimpered, eyes still shut, hips still moving. 

“Shhh sh sh, it’s okay, let it out…” Samriel squeezed her breast again while his opposite hand sank lower, thumb massaging her lips to start, followed by her clit. She moaned softly until his rubs became rougher, vibrating his fingers like he did before. 

“Awwwe,” she moaned. 

He moved to her other breast and thumbed the nipple, vibrations increasing over her now-swollen clit. 

“T-too much! Ngh!” She squirmed, his cock filling her as she did.

“It’s okay if it’s too much…let it out mŷras…”

“But!”

He pressed her wanting nub harder, rubbing in quick, sharp bursts. “You make daddy so hard, Ariala…”

She didn’t know what that meant, not really, but his words made her want him, _need_ him. He bucked again and bottomed out inside of her, cockhead pushing against the tight flesh of her belly. She rubbed the swell of his erection from the other side with a groan. Then, something new happened: her privates contracted. _Hard._ Just once, just a warning, but with that warning came a warm stream of pee that trickled over Samriel’s crotch and legs.

“Awwwwwe!” she writhed. 

“Poor girl,” cooed Samriel. He patted her cunt three times and she whimpered, giving a couple of cute, little bounces. “You’re so sensitive.” She nodded, teeth digging back into her puffy lip. He took both his hands and slid them across her middle, squeezing. 

“Oh, daddy…”

Samriel bottomed out yet again, feeling his own swell underneath the heels of his hands. He shuddered, a strong, ebbing sensation working at his groin. _You sicko. You’re so horny, look at you. You’re about to blow and you’re going to blow right inside of her!_

The elf picked up the pace, thrusting into her in harder, more regular bursts. Ariala opened her eyes and lifted her shirt up, watching her father’s hands explore her middle, insides full of his erection. He was so deep, filling every last inch of her. She had never, _ever_ had anything inside of her before. Even his fingers felt like too much. But this? This was literally giving her belly a bump! And that…

That really made her want him. There was something sensual about it, something primal that took her a few seconds to work out, and when she did, she couldn’t help but play it up.

She placed her hands over his as he massaged her belly, starting to bounce on his lap again. “Uhhhnnn…my tummy hurts…” She whimpered and groaned, but kept bouncing and bouncing.

“Oh ~ mŷras ~ baby,” gasped Samriel, squeezing her middle again. His own cock pressed against the palm of his hand through her flesh. “Baby, it’ll b-be okay…”

“Are you going to make me a mommy?” she asked, stars in her eyes. Even _saying_ those words made the butterflies come back…and not the ones in her stomach.

Samriel’s cock violently spasmed and he grunted. He was on the edge. The girl’s unexpected words were too much for him. “Vashään, I have to pull out…”

“I c-can’t!” she shrieked, bouncing and bouncing and bouncing.

“Ariala, no, get off,” he demanded through pants and gasps.

But she refused. “It aches, daddy, it aches!”

“Ariala _please!_ ” he begged, another awful jerk of his cock inside of her. _Now, it has to be now! You’re gonna blow, old man!_

Her mind was fuzzy, colors fading to white as the ache throbbed in her loins. It radiated in and out, then only out, growing and expanding into her cunt and thighs and belly where it pulsed into Samriel’s hands. The only thing she could think of was his words, the ones he’d said moments ago: _“Mŷras, you’re about to make me cum_ …” _That’s_ what she needed, what her body longed for day in and day out for the last week!

“Ah! Ah! Ah! Daddy! Oh!” She bounced and bounced and bounced, trapping him there and fucking him while he pleaded with her to stop.

“No baby, n-n-n…nghhhhh…ohhhh VASHÄÄN!” His cock gave one, final, awful jerk before he flooded her, tilting his head back as sweat dripped from his nose. And oh, it was _divine._ Every last ounce of control was lost as he moaned, “Mommy!” roughly claiming her hips and lifting her up and back down again, taking control of her bounces and screwing her raw.

But after a moment, she couldn’t bounce. All Ariala could do was allow her mouth to fly open, seize up, and release a guttural, gasping sob as her pussy began a series of hard, unstoppable contractions. The first few demanded her squirt, spraying all over Samriel’s belly and legs one, two, and three times. Her fourth squirt was a little dribble that trickled between his legs, and with it came a flow of white, viscous cum that coated his cock. 

Samriel grunted and shivered, cumming again as he forced her onto his erupting cock. 

“Awwwe, p-please ~ ” she sobbed, shaking and trembling as he controlled her. “I need to g-get pregnant ~ ”

“Ahhh yes!” Samriel bucked and claimed her cunt with his hand, squeezing and massaging it while he finished out his orgasm. His other hand rubbed circles over her sore belly. _Picture it,_ came his inner thoughts, _Ariala with her big, swollen stomach, full of your seed; breasts round and aching, nipples leaking, ready for you to milk._ “Vashään, ah, Mommy, vashään you feel so good ~ ”

They came. Moaned. Made messes all over one another. Collapsed in each other’s arms.

But…that was it. The end of it. There couldn’t be anymore. As Samriel stroked Ariala’s hair in the dwindling light of the fire, he felt an awful sickness in his stomach. What had he just done? He had just defiled his own daughter, that’s what. “Go to bed…” he insisted. She was flushed red, nodding and quietly tucking herself in on her bearskin rug in the corner. 

They didn’t talk about it all week, and hardly spoke a word to each other. At dinner, he couldn’t eat; guts roiling every time he looked at her. In the daytime she made arrows and he sold them, interacting only when absolutely necessary. But time works magic of its own, and finally, tension began to lessen. The two started eating together again, chatting during work, and eventually, they went back to leaving messes around the house that neither of them would clean. Finally, they could laugh again. Things would be okay. Things were normal. 

Until…

“Father…” 

Samriel wrung his wet hands in his apron, glancing up from the stove. “I’m not doing the laundry.”

“No, it’s not that…”

The man blinked. “Are you okay, mŷras? You look feverish.”

Ariala shook her head, unfastened her pants, and revealed nothing underneath except a slick, wet sheen. And with tears in her eyes, she said, “Daddy…I can’t cum. It aches…”


End file.
